THE GETAWAY by Kieran Scott

We are delighted to feature an excerpt from Kieran Scott’s THE GETAWAY!

In a taut locked-room mystery from New York Times bestselling author Kieran Scott, a group of longtime friends confronts their darkest secrets―and deadliest impulses―on the brink of a hurricane.

For years, three couples have gathered at The Villa―billionaire Lincoln Foster’s Hamptons estate―for lavish weekends among friends. But this year, mysterious blue cards appear in each bedroom, exposing secrets: their host’s betrayals and the guests’ own dark deeds.

Everyone has something to hide. Marley and Marshall Foster. Suzy and Sean McTeague. Juliet and Josh Jacoby. Lincoln and his new wife, Hazel. Even uninvited guests hoping to be accepted among the elite.

With a hurricane bearing down, no one is getting out. When the revelations turn deadly, the trapped friends must confront what their lies have cost them―possibly their lives.

Chapter 1 from THE GETAWAY by Kieran Scott (Thomas & Mercer; September 1, 2026)

MARLEY

Less than twenty-four hours earlier

As she settled back into the passenger seat of her husband’s creaky old Subaru that muggy Friday morning in August, Marley Foster wasn’t sure whether she was on her way to hell or the Hamptons.

She was, after all, about to start the four-hour (on a good day) slog to the summer home of the man who had not only callously divorced her best friend Lily, sending her into a downward spiral that had landed her in and out of rehab for the past year and a half, but had also already married his tarty little mistress and produced an irritatingly adorable baby. Plus, the Hamptons house, or “the Villa” as Lincoln pretentiously liked to call it, was Lily’s favorite place on earth—one she’d spent years of her life renovating and decorating, and would probably never see the inside of again.

Which just made the whole thing feel that much more awful.

Sometimes, if she thought about it too long, Marley felt like she could strangle Lincoln for what he’d done to Lily. For what he’d done to her too—to all of them. He’d broken up their perfectly happy and cohesive friendship group and turned her vibrant, confident, fun prankster of a best friend into a shaky, sad, self-deprecating shell of her former self. Nothing would ever be the same again, all because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

But. And there was always a but when one was trying to justify a betrayal.

Or a however.

Or an although.

And in this case, it was a rather large but.

But Marley’s husband, Marshall, was Lincoln’s brother. 

So, Hazel the tartlet was now Marley’s sister-in-law. And Marshall somehow, against all odds, still loved his brother. So, really, there was no getting out of this. At least her other two best friends, Suzy and Juliet, would be there. Would it be wrong to grab the girls and bail? Maybe the three of them could head to Cape Cod or Provincetown or—hell—the Jersey Shore. Have a little girl time and leave the testosterone behind.

She might have actually suggested it, if she weren’t so exhausted.

Marley had not been sleeping well lately. And last night had been the worst night yet. Because last night Marshall had announced that he wanted to “step away from the adoption process.” Just like that. Out of nowhere. When all they’d talked about for the last five years was how much they wanted to adopt a baby. How they’d go through anything and everything to give a home to a child whose family couldn’t, or wouldn’t, care for them. Marley felt as if the love of her life had not only yanked the rug out from under her but then punched her in the face and left her for dead without a backward glance. The fact that she was even awake right now, let alone functional, was a miracle. She’d spent most of the night in the basement alternately crying and raging all over the heavy bag she used for her kickboxing workouts.

The week in the Hamptons was usually such fun. Filled with stupid couple games, romantic walks on the beach, raucous parties, and sleeping in late wrapped in Marshall’s arms. A basically free vacation surrounded by all their best friends where she and Marshall left their stressful jobs behind and took the time to bond. Now she couldn’t fathom how she was supposed to spend the next several hours trapped in the car with the man. She and Marshall never fought. Not about anything real. Right now, though, she didn’t even know how to talk to him.

Maybe she should call Jasper, the director at Essex Country Day School, where she worked as a kindergarten teacher during the year and helped run an academic summer camp during the off months, and tell him she was coming in next week after all. But she knew that Jasper would tell her she already worked too hard and she had more than earned this break. He was fatherly that way. Plus she and Suzy and Juliet had promised each other that if one of them was going, they’dall go. She couldn’t back out on them now.

She’d feel better once she was with her friends and she could vent. Neither one of them was Lily, but they were close. And tonight, Lincoln was hosting a huge party where she could get drunk, dance, and avoid Marshall for hours if necessary.

Marshall, who had turned on the car, cranked up the AC, and then told Marley he’d be right back—he had to take a call—now paced the driveway, gesticulating emphatically with his free hand. Who was he even talking to? Was it Lincoln? Was it work? Who was she kidding—of course it was work. Because even though it was only 6:00 a.m. —they’d gotten up early so they could beat the traffic, fingers crossed—and even though Marshall had taken today and the next five workdays off, he’d still spend half of that time on the phone with his boss or his department’s coordinator, or that jackass Christian, who was always foisting work off on him. She took a deep breath. She was not going to let it get to her. There was already enough to stress about. 

Pushing her sunglasses atop her head, Marley flipped the visor down to check her reflection in the tiny mirror. Her skin looked dry, and there were dark circles under her green eyes. Normally she would have taken the time to blow out her straight dirty-blond hair, but she couldn’t fathom it today, so she’d put it back in a low ponytail that now hung limply down her back. Little frizzles of hair stuck out around her face, brought to life by the humidity. She really hoped to get some sun this week. Her complexion definitely needed a jump start.

Her phone vibrated. A text from Suzy. She flipped the visor back up.

SO, WE’RE REALLY DOING THIS.

Marley could easily picture Suzy kicked back in one of her giant SUV’s leather seats, her hair perfectly coiffed into a dark “haphazard” bun that had actually taken her thirty minutes to perfect. Precise tendrils would be framing her face, and she probably had her fake lashes applied just yesterday to guarantee they’d last the full week. Suzy always relied on big lashes to bring out her sparkling brown eyes, which were almost always accented by even sparklier diamonds in her ears. Marley sighed and texted back.

LOOKS THAT WAY.

UGH. SEAN IS IN A MOOD. AND NOT THE GOOD KIND.

LOL EVERYTHING OK?

The last thing Marley needed was for Suzy and Sean to be at each other’s throats this weekend. When they were fighting, Suzy got drunk and loud, and Sean got whiny about everything. What with Lily and Lincoln’s divorce and Juliet and Josh always traveling, they hadn’t all been together since Juliet’s son’s baby-naming nine months ago, and that had been a fraught event in and of itself. Marley needed some semblance of normalcy this week.

IDK I’M GOING TO TRY TO GET IT OUT OF HIM ON THE RIDE.

GOOD CALL.

For half a second, Marley considered telling Suzy what had happened between her and Marshall, but then the three dots were scrolling again, and she realized it wasn’t a conversation to be had over text.

BUT WE’RE NOT GOING TO ACTUALLY BE NICE TO THIS BITCH, RIGHT?

Marley sighed. She was not of the opinion that it was Hazel’s fault that Lincoln cheated on Lily, impregnated her, and dumped his wife for her. But she was also not not of that opinion. Plus, it did kill her that Hazel had gotten pregnant so quickly, even accidentally, when Marley and Marshall had been trying to adopt for so long—that Hazel had given Marshall’s parents, the evil Fosters of the Greenwich, Connecticut, Fosters, their first grandchild. Marley unscrewed the cap on her ice-cold bottle of zero sugar ginger ale and took a swig. She seemed to be constantly nauseous and knew it was because she hadn’t been eating right lately. Actually, she hadn’t been eating much at all. Not since three weeks and two days ago, when the last adoption fell through. But she couldn’t think about that now. If she thought about it, she was going to start crying again, and she was so sick of crying. In fact, maybe she was sick of everything. Hazel and Lincoln included.

Of the couples that vacationed together at the Villa every year—Marley and Marshall, Suzy and Sean, and Juliet and Josh—Marley and Marshall had spent the most time with Hazel. And while she did dress like a cross between a lingerie model and a background dancer, and, in Marley’s opinion, wore far too much lip liner, she wasn’t totally awful. She was attentive, always asking how Marley was feeling and making sure the people around her stayed hydrated and fed. She remembered everything anyone ever told her and asked after whatever it was the next time she saw them. She had a fantastic laugh. And she seemed to have a calming effect on Lincoln that was not unwelcome. Also, Marley had always been the youngest of the group—Marshall was three years older than her and Lincoln three years older than him—and now Hazel, at thirty, was the baby. She could take all the ribbing for it from here on out.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE NICE TO HER BUT DON’T BE MEAN. ITS HER HOUSE NOW.

Suzy texted back a vomiting emoji. Then:

OK BUT SERIOUSLY YOU ARE AWARE THERES AN ACTUAL HURRICANE COMING RIGHT? HAVE YOU SEEN WHATS GOING ON IN THE CAROLINAS?

Of course, Marley had seen what was going on in the Carolinas. The whole freaking world had seen what was going on. It was utter devastation. People in boats floating through their former neighborhoods. Dogs left behind on roofs. Grandmas getting airlifted to safety. And of course, the looting. So much looting. But Lincoln swore all the National Weather Service models had Hurricane Sarah turning toward land and dying over Virginia. By the time it got up to the tristate, it would be nothing but a big rainstorm, and it would be mostly inland. Looking out the window at the clear blue sky now, Marley found it hard to imagine people were literally struggling against the elements just a few hundred miles away.

The models could be wrong. As they often were. But was anyone going to tell Lincoln Foster that? Not a chance. He had a weeklong vacation to host. A huge party to throw tonight. Lincoln Foster did not bow to Mother Nature. Mother Nature would bow to him. She sighed and texted back.

LINCOLN SAYS IT’LL BE SAFER ON THE ISLAND.

RAINN SAYS THERE’S A 35 PERCENT CHANCE THE HAMPTONS GET A DIRECT HIT.

WHO THE EFF IS RAINN?

RAINN STORMS! THAT INFLUENCER I FOLLOW. HE’S ALWAYS RIGHT!

A link followed, and against her better judgment, Marley clicked it. It took her to a video of a rotund man with light-brown skin and three nose rings, wearing a yellow rain slicker and hat and standing in front of an elaborate radar screen.

“Mainstream media is lying to you! They don’t want all them rich folks to stay home and not bring their green to the island this weekend. They’re more worried about heirloom-tomato sales than they are about your safety! Listen to me, people! Stay. Home!” 

His eyes went wide and wild as he did a motion that was not unlike jazz hands right at the camera. After a pause he added, “Don’t forget to like and subscribe.”

And then his handle flashed across the screen with a lightning-and-thunder effect. Marley had to take a minute to compose herself before responding. She wrote back:

YOU NEED TO GET OFF THE INTERNET

There was a longish pause. Then Suzy finally texted:

OK THEN. I GUESS I’LL SEE YOU WHEN I SEE YOU.

And even though Marley knew she’d pissed off her friend, she blithely texted back:

SAFE TRAVELS!

The driver’s side door popped open, letting in the sweet, cut-grass-scented air of the outside world. Marshall plugged his phone in and let out a world-weary sigh.

Normally Marley would ask if everything was all right, but today she couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead, she pointedly stared straight ahead. He would not get the satisfaction of her sympathy.

How could he do this to her? Just turn his back on everything they’d been talking about and hoping for since they’d gotten engaged? The fact that he refused to even discuss it was what made it so unbearable. His righteous insistence that giving up was the right thing to do. That she’d see it his way in the long run.

So what if they’d come close to being the chosen couple three times now? So what if the last time she’d actually held the baby girl in her arms for ten minutes before her birth mother had changed her mind and DCF had whisked the baby away? So what if Marley had been in such a deep depression for two weeks after that she hadn’t even been able to rouse herself enough to take a shower? None of this meant she was going to give up on her dream of becoming a mother.

Great. Her eyes were welling up again.

I’m not going to change my mind, he’d said last night. This is what’s best for both of us.

“You ready for this?” Marshall asked, putting the car in gear.

Her jaw clenched when his gaze flicked to her ginger ale bottle. He fished a granola bar out of the center console and held it out to her. When she didn’t take it, he placed it between her legs on the seat. She took a deep breath, clenching her hands into fists to keep from picking up the snack and smacking him with it.

“Let’s just go.” She slipped her sunglasses on, slumped down, and turned to stare out the passenger-side window.

“It’s only a week. And we can’t change the past. All we can do is—”

“Move forward. I know,” she snapped. They’d talked about this. About whether or not to go when Lily wasn’t going to be there. When Lily was two weeks into her third rehab stint. When she would have to sit there in her cream-colored safe room (cords and shoelaces and sharp objects removed), knowing they were all enjoying her favorite week of the year without her. They’d talked about it a lot. And the decision had been made. She reached forward and cranked up the AC. “So let’s get it over with.”

“That’s the spirit,” he replied, not unkindly. Which just pissed her off more. She wanted him to be obnoxious to her so she could bite back. She wanted to fight and claw and spit until he heard her. It was honestly all she could do to keep from grabbing the back of his head and slamming him forward into the steering wheel.

All she wanted was what she’d always envisioned for herself. Their little family. One kid. Was that too much to ask? She and her sister had been adopted by their aunt and uncle when their parents had been killed in a car accident. Marley had been two years old and Justine four. Ever since she’d been old enough to understand how selfless that act had been, how much love they’d brought into her and Justine’s lives, she had wanted to do the same for another child. Just one. She didn’t need a pair of siblings. She wasn’t greedy. She wouldn’t ask for more. Her eyes prickled with new tears.

Deep breaths, Marley. Deep breaths.

He turned on his favorite stuck-in-traffic playlist, and they were off.

—

Kieran Scott is the author of more than fifty novels for children and teens, eight of which, written under the pen name Kate Brian, have been New York Times bestsellers. Her mystery novels for adults include Wish You Were Gone, Regrets Only, and People Will Talk.

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